Plus Pattern 36
by Penguinator27
Summary: Hopefully a different take on a common Heero/Relena trope. "Even as he sat outside her office with a perfectly good excuse from the secretary, he felt it strange that her door was shut to him." One-shot. Rated M for adult themes. 1xR


Plus Pattern 36

After a deep, sobering kiss, he moved himself from above her to beside her, and pulled the sheets over both their bodies.

With a sigh, and a cease in her heavy breaths, she closed the few inches between them, wedging one of her legs between his and placing a hand on his warm, bare chest.

For his part, he was dazed—with eyes closed and chest rising and falling more rapidly than hers was now—but had the presence of mind to respond to her touch with a small pressure from his own hand over hers.

The last thing she took in before closing her eyes was the dark contrast of the outline of his shoulder against the bluish- white moonlight falling on them from outside the window.

"Heero…."

* * *

"Foreign minister, Agent Yuy is here to see you."

No one ever called him her husband. In press photos, the simply ornamented bands were clearly visible; anyone who cared to look in the public records would be able to find her name to be one of two on a marriage license made in Brussels; she had joint ownership of a condominium in a building in downtown Brussels; she was escorted to events by a ranking Preventer Agent; most days, she was accompanied home by the same Preventer Agent, and left with him the next morning. On outings, he was identified as her security officer, even when they were the only two seated at a dimly lit restaurant table.

Heero Yuy was simply too subtle—often in the dark green of a Preventer uniform and sunglasses—to be called the brilliant Foreign Minister's husband, despite the evidence suggested by a quietly resting band on his left hand. So he never was.

"Please send him in, Miss Eleanor."

She did not look up even as she heard the doorknob click open—the only sure sign that someone had entered her office. Even when he sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, she was only faintly sure she could hear a weight settling onto the seat's padding. Assurance that it was indeed her husband that was in her office was more remote: it was a prickling of the hairs on her neck and a familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach that said "Heero" to her.

"Just a minute." She still didn't look up at him as she clicked something away on the keyboard at her fingers while looking over to a much- scrawled- on paper at the top of a neatly stacked bunch.

Heero watched her concentrate. He was always taken aback by the light in Relena's office. Two of the walls consisted of floor to ceiling windows—lightly tinted—and allowed her to work under natural light for her entire workday. It suited her personality. Heero's own—much smaller—office had one window that may have well not existed for the blinds that were always tightly shut over it. It left the room to be lit by a desk lamp on the left side of his inbox.

"Ah, all done now." She finally looked up at him, finding his eyebrows raised a bit.

"Really?" There were few that could detect the subtle, mock excitement he used.

"For today." She ignored the jab. She knew what he thought of her vigorous work habits. "Home?"

Heero nodded, rose from his chair, and went to the coat hanger by the door to retrieve Relena's cream- colored duster jacket. He helped her into it when she met him at the door, her brown leather briefcase in hand.

He always drove them home in his car. The sun was setting in Brussels, and they both wore sunglasses. In all honesty, the condo was walking distance from both the Capitol Building and Preventers Headquarters. An evening's stroll past the many cafés, stores, and clubs would have been a pleasant luxury, but for two obstacles: Relena's high-heels, and the attention brought to her by the impending elections.

Much speculation had been made about the choice the Foreign Minister would make in regards to her position. Her twelve-year tenure in the Foreign Ministry had been more successful than anyone might have expected a young woman without a formal political education to have. Since the age of twenty, there had always been speculation regarding her and a bid for the presidency. This year was the first time the whispers had had any truth in them.

"My aides showed me the cover of _PoliSociety_ this morning. Did you see it?"

Heero looked to her as he stopped at a light. "Yes." He looked forward again. "I didn't want to bring it up."

A copy of the glossy rag was in Relena's brown briefcase at her feet. The headline read simply: "Foreign Minister Peacecraft—Ready for the Presidency Yet?"

"It's based on my appeal as a candidate rather than for the actual position."

"Flattering?"

"Yes, but that doesn't matter; it's just about all the opportunities I've had to snag the presidency." She leaned her head against the heavily tinted window.

"Hn. It's likely there'll be more, you know."

Relena closed her eyes and straightened up. "Yes. I meant to talk to you about that tonight."

Heero nodded as he deftly slipped his sunglasses off as he steered the car into their building's dark parking garage.

Relena was quiet until he had pulled into their parking space and turned off the car; he sat, looking at the steering wheel, waiting.

"The media's quick to jump on things like this. I've tried not to dwell on it, but that article really made me think."

He looked at her sideways in the dim light of the car. "You're considering running?"

"It's something I've considered for a few years. You know that."

"I know you've thought about it, but…."

"I'm ready now."

They looked at one another from either side of the car in silence for a moment, each pondering what the other had said. Finally, Heero moved, putting one hand on the steering wheel, and the other on both of hers in her lap.

"Well, I think you'd be the best judge of that." He leaned over to her side of the car to kiss her.

Relena pulled away before he reached her. "So you're behind me?"

He nodded as he closed the extra distance between them.

* * *

Heero held their front door open, and Relena walked in underneath his arm into the condo, heading straight for their bedroom. Heero walked into the kitchen for a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"What do you want to do for dinner?" he called softly as he unscrewed the cap off a bottle of water. No answer. He put the water down on the counter with his keys and shrugged out of his dark green jacket.

Relena slinked out of their bedroom barefooted and in her light bathrobe. Heero watched her walk toward him as he fumbled with the knot of his tie.

"I definitely want to stay here."

"We can order out. I don't feel like doing anything."

"Pizza?"

Heero shook his head.

"Vietnamese? You like pho, Heero."

Heero nodded. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Why don't you go shower, and I'll call it in."

Heero kissed Relena's forehead before collecting his jacket and tie and heading out of the kitchen.

Relena made her way without hurry into their living room, and—deciding against turning on the TV—sat in one of their chairs to stare aimlessly beyond the open blinds of the French doors that led to their balcony. Her view of the sunset over Brussels was obscured fifteen minutes later by Heero in a pair of jeans and a white cotton undershirt.

"Your turn."

Without warning, Relena felt her body fly upwards off the couch; she came to rest against Heero's chest, one of his arms underneath her legs, the other supporting her back. She gave a squeak of surprise, which pleased Heero.

"What's this, chauffeur service from room to room?"

"Yes. And other services at your request." He set her down in front of the bathroom door, and bent his neck to kiss her, but paused just before he touched her at the chime of the doorbell.

Relena turned her head. "That can't be dinner?"  
"I'll get it." He turned, leaving her standing alone at the bathroom door.

"That's ridiculous—it must be some sort of record!"

He called back softly on his way to the front door: "They _are_ just down the street."

He busied himself spooning the pho from its plastic container into two of their bowls, knowing that—with the promise of food in the next room—Relena wouldn't be taking a long shower. Sure enough, she emerged only a few minutes later, back in her bathrobe, and still slightly wet.

"Hungry, I take it?" He handed her a bowl and she padded off to their small dinner table. Heero followed with his own bowl and two glasses of water.

Before sitting down, he looked at Relena as she gracefully shoveled the noodles into her mouth. Looking up at her after taking his own first bite, he was alarmed to see that she had blanched, and that her lips were almost a deep purple.

"Relena?"

She looked at him only for a second before she rose and staggered to the bathroom. He followed her immediately.

She had only just poised her head over the toilet bowl before she begun to retch violently. Heero paused for a short moment in surprise, but moved next to her to pull her wet hair behind her back. He reached to pull a towel off a rack behind him, for when she was ready.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"This is disgusting." She threw her face back into the toilet as another wave of sick washed over her.

"Hn."

When she calmed down, Heero left her to brush her teeth while he called the restaurant to complain about the questionable quality of their food. Returning to check on her, he found her already asleep in their bed.

* * *

After two weeks of hoping and denial, Relena could no longer lie to herself: she had missed her period.

The impossibility of the situation presented itself to her first: she religiously took birth control pills. Her mother having been dead for five years, and being reluctant to discuss such matters with her administrative assistant, she knew of only one person she felt confident in turning to for reassurance.

She pressed a button on her telephone console. "Miss Eleanor, please hold all my calls and any visitors until further notice."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you."

Switching the phone to its visual function, she accessed Hilde Maxwell's telephone number from her contact list.

"Relena!" Hilde appeared on the holographic screen after four rings.

"Hello, Hilde." Her smile was infectious, and Relena didn't deny the urge to respond, despite her anxiety.

A high-pitched scream was emitted from somewhere beyond the video's scope on Hilde's side.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, just—hold on." She turned her head to the right and her eyes widened. "Adam, Anthony—you _know_ not to play with those! Put them down _now_."

Watching Hilde scold her boys, Relena's anxieties returned.

"So, what's up, Relena?"

"Um, I—well, see, you have to understand that I don't know how to go about asking this…and you can't tell anyone. Not even Duo."

"_Especially_ not Duo."

"Ok, well, I…uh…I don't know what to make of—"

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

"No!" Relena caught herself and took a calming breath. "I don't know. And how did you know what I was getting at?"

"Just a hunch. Maybe the petrified look in your eyes."

"Is it obvious?"

"Probably not to him."

"Good." Relena steadied herself for what she might find out next. "I need you to tell me…how I might be able to tell."

* * *

Heero strode into the antechamber before the entrance to Relena's office, a full messenger bag hanging from his shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Agent Yuy."

"Good afternoon, Miss Eleanor. May I go in to see the Foreign Minister?"

"Actually, she just asked to hold all calls and visits until further notice. Would you care to wait?"

Heero glanced at his watch. There were still forty-five minutes until his designated lunch break was over. "Yes, thank you."

He took a seat in one of the plush armchairs to the side of the doorway and took a manila folder out of the bag he carried. It contained data obtained over the past three months regarding the suspicious activities of a group of men and women in Malta and the L3 colony cluster. Evidence that would send him out on assignment was piling up quickly, and he needed to prepare himself.

However, he found it difficult to concentrate with twenty or so of Relena's smiling faces beaming on him from the walls. Most were publicity photos, and in all she looked to be in a pleasant temper. It contrasted sharply with her disposition as of late. Heero was no stranger to the effects of the stresses of her job; no matter how much of a toll they took on her, she had never distanced herself from him like she had done for the past few weeks.

He was confused to say the least, and clueless as to how to explore the matter, having always been able to rely on her to navigate them through such channels.

Even as he sat outside her office with a perfectly good excuse from the secretary, he felt it strange that her door was shut to him.

* * *

Sunday was nearly sacred to Heero and Relena. Unless work obligations took them elsewhere, that day of the week was one they spent together.

So it was very troubling to Heero when he reached out in the early morning to find only cold sheets next to him. He decided against calling her, and busied himself working in the spare room they had set up as a sort of joint office for themselves.

When Relena returned late in the afternoon, she saw the dim, blue light of a computer screen shining from their office, and went to the doorway to see her husband. He stopped typing, but didn't take his eyes off the screen.

"What are you working on?"

"Research and other preparation. I'm going to L3 in a few weeks."

"What for?"

"To infiltrate a suspicious Maltese group."

"What—for how long?"

"Where did you go today?" He looked at her, but spoke very quietly.

"I drove down to my office." She heard no response from him. "I'm working on a draft of my candidacy announcement."

"Hn." He turned his gaze back to his computer monitor, and resumed his typing. She left for their room, to change. After undoing half of the buttons on her dark

gray blouse, she felt him in the doorway. She was startled at the intensity of his gaze, but continued with her blouse.

He approached her as she was about to undo her last button, and took the task into his own hands. He stood in front of her, clutching the hem of her shirt. Looking up at him, she felt intimidated, almost at his mercy.

"Relena," he almost whispered it, "I can't promise I'll understand, but you can tell me what's wrong. I want to protect you from it."

It took seconds for their faces to come close enough for a kiss.

"Tell me."

"I—"

The proximity was too much for both of them. Heero felt rather than thought in words that this was their first real kiss in too long, and expressed it with his hungry motions. They had made love over the past few weeks, but there had been a sort of barrier he sensed. He could tell that this time Relena was completely present in the moment. He leaned her body backward on to the bed and opened her shirt to kiss her neck and the pale skin of her chest. Relena dug her hands into his dark, messy hair and pulled his face to hers as he began to deftly remove the rest of her clothes.

The apartment was dark and quiet, save for the hum of a CPU in the distance. Heero and Relena were buried underneath the covers on their bed, laying in the drowsiness of their after-pleasure.

Heero rolled onto his side, propping his head up in his hand. "Well?"

Knowing full well what he was getting at, Relena moved to mirror his position. "You have to understand that what I'm going to tell you—well, I don't even know if it's true."

"Hn."

"I think I'm…I'm…pregnant?"

It seemed that Heero had been holding his breath as he let it out slowly and gave a small nod. "Alright."

"Alright? I thought I'd get a bit more of a reaction out of you."

"You said you're not even sure."

"I have lots of reasons to think so, though."

"For how long?"

"About two weeks."

"You should have told me sooner, Relena. You don't have to upset yourself, and worry me because of something you're not even sure is real."

Relena was quiet in the wake of his small outpour.

"I'm sorry, Heero."

"Don't be."

"But I am."

"I'm your husband; I don't think you should be afraid of me."

"I'm not."

"Just don't be afraid of me, Relena."

* * *

Heero brought a plastic bag to Relena's office the next day at lunch.

"Drink up." He pulled a liter bottle of water out.

"Why?" She looked up from a scattered mess of papers on her desk.

He reached into the bag again, pulling out a purple box with a picture of a long, white object on the front.

"Did you go to a store and buy that yourself?"

"Yes."

Relena laughed at the thought of him standing in line with the feminine, purple box in hand.

"Nothing. So, you think I should do this now then?"

"The sooner you have reason to worry or to not worry, the sooner you can start worrying or not worrying."

Relena drank the water in large gulps while Heero read the instructions from inside the box.

"Done."

"Okay. Take this. It says you're supposed to—"

"I think I have a general idea of what to do. I'll be back."

When she returned, pulling the stick from her pocket, she found Heero standing on her side of the desk, apparently reading from the papers laid out on top. For the next ten minutes, he made small talk with her over her arrangements to promote a reconstruction of the Lunar Base.

"Relena, the time's up."

"Okay. What am I looking for?"

"The box says plus means 'yes,' and negative means 'no.'"

She held it up so both of them could see. A dark red plus graced the small window. Heero turned to look at her and found her still staring at the stick.

"Plus. Heero, I'm pregnant."

"So you are."

She looked at him, incredulous. "What do you mean? I'm pregnant, Heero."

"I know."

"You don't understand. This means—it means—I wanted to run for president, Heero."

"I know."

They were quiet for a long moment.

"If you don't want to have a baby, you can say so, Heero."

He looked at her. "Do you?"

"I just mean that—you know, just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean we have to have a baby."

"You would consider that?"

"You mean to tell me you wouldn't?"

"Why should I? This sort of thing happens to people all the time; why should we be any different?"

"But we are different. I have a career that I've only just managed to fit a marriage into. What makes you think I could do that for a child? And you—you've never said _anything_ about wanting children."

Heero ran his hand through his hair. "I never really considered it because you never brought it up. I mean, what business do I have raising a child?" He looked at her. "But don't you think we've made it our business, whether we meant to or not?"

"If we did have a baby, I wouldn't be able to run for president. I might not even be able to hold this office. That would be my sacrifice. And I wouldn't expect you to be going off to god-knows-where on Earth and in space looking for drug and arms dealers. What kind of parenting is that?"

"I would stop, Relena, I'd ask to be reassigned. I would be here. We could do it together, Relena. I think we could make it work."

She took his hand in hers and their varying blue eyes met, each set challenging the other to make a decision for them both.

* * *

_A/N: It's true, I'm in the middle of resuming my chapter story, Ordinary People, but this one just kind of popped out. Want to know the motivation? Okay. Well, see, when I read stories where Relena gets pregnant, it always goes in the direction of Relena wanting to have their baby and Heero being too scared to face up to fatherhood or something like that. I think that's good and plausible, but this was an attempt to explore what the other side of that situation might be. It's also my experiment in portraying a more mature, domesticated Heero and Relena. To boot, it's also my first "grown-up" fic, hence the higher rating._

_So, let me know what you think of the characterization, the dual point of view, and just about the story in general. I'm feeling really iffy about this one, so feedback would be very much appreciated. Thanks._

_--Penguinator27, 5/6/08, 8:15 pm_


End file.
